


Ten Minutes and Ten Minutes More

by not_poignant



Series: Fae Tales - AUs, Oneshots and More [16]
Category: Fae Tales - not_poignant, Original Work
Genre: (so what's new), Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Eran earns a billion detentions, Faedom Week, Faedom Week 2019, Fingering, Heat play, M/M, Magic School, Restraints, School of the Staff AU, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temperature Play, Tsundere!Mosk, Virginity Kink, age gap, semi-public, the student is the top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 13:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: Eran Iliakambar, a student at the School of the Staff specialising in fire magic, decides to pursue Professor Mosk Manytrees, the aloof dryad who doesn't like playing with fire. (Part of Faedom Week 2019 - Day 1: AUs)





	Ten Minutes and Ten Minutes More

**Author's Note:**

> [Faedom Week 2019 - Day 1, AUs. ](https://faedom-week.tumblr.com/post/187470630767/faedom-week-oct-21st-oct-27th-faedom-week)
> 
> *
> 
> I like busted this out in a fever dream last night and finished it this morning and it was only supposed to be 1,000 words but I'm SO GLAD IT WAS LONGER and I think y'all will be too. This is the first Mosk/Eran AU! /vibrates

_Eran_

*

‘You really think this will work?’ Eran said, turning his fire staff thoughtfully in his fingers. He looked back towards the large network of rooms hollowed out in the tree that grew upon Professor Mosk’s cloud.

Ash winked at him, his hair black and curly ever since he’d learned how to change the colour with transformation magic. Augus looked between them with disdain and then rolled his eyes.

‘You’re not even trying. You have to _try. _We’ve told you what to do.’

‘Yeah,’ Ash said. ‘And then you can bag a sweet, sweet Professor like we did.’

Augus smirked. ‘You won’t even have to try as hard with Mosk, I’m sure. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’

Eran exchanged a dark smile with the two brothers. It was true, in the beginning he’d flustered Mosk, even frightened him, but he’d refused to leave his growth magic tutorials and noticed that Mosk began to act curiously towards him. Hostile sometimes, resentful at others, but seemingly fascinated that Eran wanted to apply dryad growth principles to his own innate fire magic.

Eran was only in his third year of training, he still had decades ahead of him. But Augus and Ash, who had both been at the School of the Staff for ten years apiece, had apparently bagged the Professor of Light in the first three months. Ash said that was all mostly Augus, but Eran had experienced Ash’s glamour, and he was sure that both of those brothers coming at a person at the same time, meant they wouldn’t stand much of a chance.

Though it was hard to imagine the Professor of Light allowing Augus and Ash anywhere near him, they were notorious troublemakers.

‘Go on,’ Ash said. ‘You’ve got this. Use your glamour.’

‘Use your wits,’ Augus said. ‘I’d place bets that he’s just your type.’

‘We’ll see,’ Eran said, looking back to the cloud. He’d have to teleport there, since many of the clouds weren’t connected to the main towering edifice that was the core of the School of the Staff. They were designed to be a barrier to anyone who couldn’t teleport or make portals.

‘Use your flamey fiery shit.’

‘Just get it done,’ Augus said, turning and walking away, his black cape catching the wind. ‘I’m tired of watching you fuck it up.’

‘Harsh,’ Ash said, looking after his brother. ‘But you know, he’s not wrong.’

‘That’s still harsh,’ Eran said.

Ash shrugged and walked backwards, before giving a cheeky wave and turning and running after his brother. Eran watched them until they disappeared, likely heading to their own rooms, or the Professor of Light’s cloud.

Eran teleported onto the Professor of Growth’s cloud, and walked towards the short, squat tree with its many rooms with resolve.

*

The Professor wasn’t in his main teaching room, a wooden amphitheatre with wooden seats, and a central dais where Mosk tended to lecture in his straightforward, non-humorous fashion. It was only in the smaller, intimate tutorials that it became easier to see Mosk’s softer side, glimpses of it that had Eran daydreaming out loud to Augus and Ash about all the things he wanted to do to the Aur dryad that acted so untouchable.

He walked up the spindly, wooden stairs within the tree trunk, the air becoming greener and thicker. He tucked his staff into his belt so that he had both hands free, peering into the greenhouse. A huge cathedral of rare trees, exotic plants, long tables of pots, basins, spray bottles, the smells of pollen and poisons mingling together. But Eran knew Professor Mosk was here, because he could sense out his body heat at the other end of the greenhouse.

Silently, like he was tracking a manticore, he crept down the greenhouse to where Mosk was bent over some seedlings in glass phials, muttering to them.

‘Professor Mosk?’ Eran called.

It was so satisfying to watch the way Mosk jumped, unable to hide the fact that he hadn’t been paying attention like so many Mages and Mages-in-Training did. But Mosk got so scattered around plants, and Eran knew he could use them to locate people, but he almost never seemed to.

‘Ah, Eran?’ Mosk said, looking over his shoulder, his golden eyes wide.

‘Yes,’ Eran said, walking a bit closer. He saw the way Mosk’s eyes darted down to the staff, before looking up. Was that relief on his face? Was he still scared of Eran’s fire after all this time?

Eran wanted him so badly, it hurt to think about late at night.

‘I wanted to ask you about something,’ Eran said, walking right up alongside Mosk and staring down at the seedlings. ‘These look interesting. Could you tell me about them? Are they rare?’

‘They don’t exist,’ Mosk said, turning back to the plants. Eran looked at him instead; the side of his princely face, the straight, sharp bridge of his nose, his two-toned green hair and the oak leaves that grew gracefully, a tiny twig of them behind each ear. Even the way he wore that dark green coat with its bright green embroidery seemed aristocratic. It was like armour against the world. Eran knew nothing about his life or background, only that he was here, and a seventh son of a seventh son, and Eran wanted to know the noises he made when he was fucked past bearing it.

‘Sorry?’ Eran said, catching up to what he’d said. ‘They don’t exist?’

‘I like creating new species,’ Mosk said absently, staring at the plants. Eran edged closer to him, wondering what he might dare with Mosk so close.

‘What…like breeding them?’

‘No,’ Mosk said. ‘That’s boring. Pay attention. I mean I like _creating new species.’ _

Eran stared at him, and Mosk stared down at the plants. Then Eran blinked down at the plants. ‘Are you one of the most powerful Mages here?’

‘No,’ Mosk said easily.

‘It seems like you are though.’

‘It would seem that way to someone like you. I am much more powerful than you, but that’s not hard.’

‘It’s really not,’ Eran said, laughing easily.

But he slid his arm around Mosk’s waist, and when Mosk tensed, Eran’s fingers dug into that thick coat.

‘I mean when you think about it,’ Eran said, moving closer behind him, his other hand reaching up and grasping Mosk’s shoulder, ‘you really would only allow this if you wanted it.’

There was a small puff of air as Mosk exhaled, a brief sound of shock that Eran needed. He shifted until he could press his chest to Mosk’s back. He was taller than Mosk, though not by much. But enough that he could push his nose past the stiff collar and press his lips to Mosk’s hair. It was coarser than he expected.

‘Ah…’ Mosk seemed at a lost for what to do, and Eran _knew _it would be like this. ‘You’re- This isn’t very appropriate.’

‘Okay,’ Eran said, reaching around until he could unbutton one of the heavy buttons on the coat. He could hear Mosk’s breathing, feel how tense he was. Mosk was allowing it, but he was uncertain. Eran liked that too. ‘I mean you have so much more magic than I do. Like, creating new species, even. So you’d only let me do this if you wanted me to.’

‘I don’t…’ Mosk swallowed as Eran slid his hand beneath the coat to a much thinner shirt beneath. ‘Eran…’

‘I’m not hurting you,’ Eran said.

‘There are rules…’

‘Are there? But the Mages who created the School fucked each other, and they were brothers. _And_ teachers. So are there really rules? Or do you just have some idea of how it should be in your head?’

Eran leaned closer, holding Mosk by the waist now. He blew a plume of smoke past Mosk’s ear and didn’t let him pull away, when he shifted like he wanted to leave.

‘I’m still not hurting you,’ Eran said.

‘I don’t like fire.’

‘Smoke isn’t fire. I won’t burn you. Look, it doesn’t burn, see?’

Mosk hissed as Eran breathed smoke past his ear again, and then he shuddered heavily. At once, he tried to move away, and Eran dug his fingers in, loving the way Mosk’s skin pressed in, wishing he could see it without the clothing on.

He felt when Mosk’s magic swelled, and he stoked his own in response. That, more than anything, made Mosk fall still.

‘Ah, ah, ah,’ Eran chided. Apparently he dared a great deal. ‘Just give me ten minutes.’

‘I will kick you out of my class.’

‘Okay,’ Eran said. ‘Ten minutes though.’

_‘Eran Iliakambar, _I will-’

Eran reached up and dragged the half-unbuttoned coat off Mosk’s shoulders, and left it bunched heavily around Mosk’s wrists. He tore the buttons off his shirt as he pulled it open, placing both of his overwarm hands on Mosk’s torso, muscles twitching beneath his fingers, a fire racing inside of him.

Mosk tried to twist away, but Eran watched in satisfaction as the heavy fabric caught at his wrists and forearms, his coat still buttoned at his hips keeping him nicely trapped.

‘Seems like you’re a bit stuck,’ Eran said. ‘Here…’

He pushed Mosk down to the ground, which smelled of loam and dirt, keeping hold of that heavy coat. He wished it was ropes and that Mosk was naked, but this was their first time and he couldn’t be bothered with slow seduction. He’d tried that, and Mosk was only vaguely receptive. He behaved like a virgin, and though Eran had disbelieved it at first, lately he’d come to wonder if that was the case after all.

‘Eran, stop this,’ Mosk said.

‘I don’t want to.’

Eran heard a creaking sound and looked up to see branches twisting towards him from several plants, growing unnaturally fast, like tentacles. He grabbed his staff and pointed it upwards, burning the heartwood of the branches from the inside, breathing heavily to manage it. The branches shrunk back and Mosk made a wounded sound beneath him, even though he was facing downwards. He must have felt what Eran had done.

‘Don’t,’ Eran said. ‘Ten minutes is all I want.’

‘You’re a student,’ Mosk said, desperation in his voice. His hips bucked as Eran reached around and undid the button of his fly, shoving his pants down, baring his ass beneath the bunched up base of the coat. ‘And this is not… Eran, you _can’t_ just expect to come in here and do this.’

‘Why?’ Eran said.

He lowered his staff so that it was in Mosk’s blind spot, holding his wrists in one hand, and with his other, palming the curve of Mosk’s ass. It was cool and smooth, as though the heavy coat didn’t warm him, and his skin pulled tight at Eran’s touch. Eran’s fingers moved hungrily up to the base of Mosk’s spine, before dragging back again, knuckling between his thighs – also caught up in the pants bunched up around his knees – and stroking his thumb over his balls. He was surprised that he could feel no pubic hair.

He reached further, curious, and realised that Mosk didn’t seem to have any pubic hair at all. His chest had been bare, too. He hadn’t accounted for it in his fantasies, and there was a moment where his expectations had to be adjusted. But he decided he didn’t mind it at all.

Mosk shivered beneath him, but he’d gone quiet, and though he still wasn’t relaxed – not that Eran really wanted him to be – he wasn’t actively fighting. The magic he’d pulled before was still hanging at the same level, so he was ready for combat, but so was Eran. It made his hands so much warmer, and he delighted in keeping his palm against Mosk’s inner thigh, warming it, feeling the way the muscle twitched beneath.

‘You always seem so untouchable,’ Eran said. ‘But you’re beautiful.’

Mosk turned his head to the other side, said nothing. When Eran thumbed his balls again, his breath hitched.

‘Is it really so bad?’ Eran said. ‘That I’m so much younger than you are? It’s not that much, is it?’

‘Don’t even start,’ Mosk said repressively.

‘If you cared so much about it, maybe you would have fucked me instead.’

He dragged his fingernails down Mosk’s thigh, and Mosk made a thin sound. Eran shifted and pressed both of his hands to Mosk’s lower back and called his heat, sending it into Mosk’s belly.

Predictably, Mosk arched to get away, but Eran was straddling him, and Mosk was caught and clumsy in his own clothing. So Eran was free to drip more of that thick, endless heat into Mosk, and free to watch Mosk writhe beneath him, breaths coming faster.

‘Stop it,’ Mosk said weakly.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yes,’ Mosk said after a pause.

‘How?’ Eran was honestly curious. He didn’t really want to hurt Mosk, not in any major way, but he wanted to leave an impression.

‘What? I told you it hurts, now _stop.’ _

‘I mean, you’re a much better vector for this than all your important plants? I don’t want to hurt anything in your greenhouse. And I know this isn’t burning you. It just aches, doesn’t it? I’m just getting you ready.’

The shaking in Mosk’s breathing was incredible. He kept the steady flow of heat up, feeling Mosk’s skin temperature change, knowing it would make him feel flushed, feverish, and with his other hand he reached into his pocket and brought out the vial of lubricant that Augus had given him months ago for an occasion like this. He levered the cork out with some difficulty, and then spilled some of it on his fingers. He pressed them together, his thumb shooting off his index finger. He stared at it in amazement.

A little would go a long way.

He slid his fingers between Mosk’s ass cheeks, leaning forwards and down when Mosk bucked and cried out. It was too easy to slide his index finger into Mosk’s ass, the tip entering despite clenching muscles trying to keep him out. He slid his finger as far as he could, and Mosk’s moan was sharp, delicious.

‘There,’ Eran said. ‘You have to relax, Professor Mosk.’

_‘Fuck,’_ Mosk bit out. Eran was careful as he began to press heat into Mosk from the inside as well. But Mosk felt it straight away, gasping hoarsely. ‘_Stop _it.’

‘But I’m not hurting you,’ Eran said.

A sound like a sob, and Mosk moaned thickly, shaking his head, mouth opening like he wanted to say something, before closing again.

Eran curled his finger down, dragging it back and pushing back in again, and moved the hand on his lower back until it was wedged beneath Mosk’s bound arms and his shirt, right between his shoulder blades. When he began pushing heat into him there, Mosk went abruptly limp. So still, Eran thought he’d passed out.

He shifted so he could look at Mosk’s face, only to see him blinking rapidly, his mouth slack and open.

‘Am I burning you?’ Eran said roughly.

‘Yes,’ Mosk said, his voice dragged deep from his hotter-than-normal lungs. _‘Yes.’ _

‘It’s just heat,’ Eran said. ‘Heat isn’t fire.’

Mosk’s thick, dark green eyelashes fluttered as his eyes closed, and Eran watched him closely as he withdrew his index finger completely, and added his middle to the mix, sliding back in with two. The stretch was intense already, and Eran bit his bottom lip, looking down at where his fingers were disappearing into Mosk’s ass.

‘Have you ever done this before?’ Eran said. ‘Some of the students have bets, you know. That you’re a virgin. That you don’t fuck.’

Mosk’s breathing hitched, and he said nothing at all.

‘Most of them think you don’t fuck. So I guess when I collect on that pool, I can give you some of the funds.’

‘You wouldn’t _dare _tell them,’ Mosk said.

‘Not all of them, but word gets around I think? I’ve noticed Mages are quite gossipy. Especially the Unseelie ones.’

Mosk’s eyes were squeezed shut, and as Eran fucked his fingers into him, he realised Mosk was upset with the idea of others finding out. His chest panged, but he couldn’t help his half-smile either.

‘If you want,’ Eran said, ‘I could stay quiet. Maybe only tell my trusted friends? I’ll keep it a secret, if you like, that you have a lovely hole for my fingers and are beautiful like this. You really are by the way. I want to know, are you a virgin?’

‘It clearly doesn’t _matter.’ _

‘I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t,’ Eran said, pushing a third finger in and ducking back to watch his fingers disappearing into a hole stretched so tight the delicate skin was flushed pale. It didn’t tear though, Eran dragging his knuckles back and forth while Mosk gasped and gasped, fingers splaying, wrists twisting in his coat. Eran was going to tie him up one day. Tie him up and fuck him until he forgot his own name. ‘It matters to me.’

He pressed his fingers deep, and then concentrated, summoning a ropey, viscous heat, imagining it fucking even deeper into him, oozing down his passage until it met his guts, and then oozing further.

Mosk wailed, legs kicking up in his pants before slamming back down, and Eran thought that he had to be a virgin, or just sensitive, or – in a perfect world – maybe both?

‘Are you?’ Eran said. ‘A virgin?’

‘Obviously not _anymore,’ _Mosk said, his voice scathing and ruined.

Eran grinned down at him. Mosk would look incredible in a blindfold, though it would be a shame to hide his golden eyes and bind the oak leaves in his hair. A gag was out of the question, at least for now. Eran needed to hear him. He needed to hear all the sounds he could make before he was willing to hear the ones he would make with cloth or leather – or a cock – resting on his tongue.

‘You like it though,’ Eran said. ‘I can tell. Maybe afterwards you can tell everyone that you don’t actually fuck, but that you like to be fucked? We can be specific.’

‘Please,’ Mosk said, shaking his head, and Eran almost felt pity for him. Almost. ‘You were supposed to _wait.’ _

‘Fire fae, remember? Impatient, and a bit of a hothead. A million fires would rise and fall in the time it would take you to turn and reciprocate properly. We can’t all be like the trees you grow.’

Mosk was panting now, and Eran knew his body was overheated, knew that the coat must have felt suffocating and strangling, his pants hampering his legs. It was wonderful. Eran would have to tie him up. Ash had given him ropes made of an artificial human material, so that Mosk couldn’t make them grow and burst out of them. He could tie Mosk so that he had access to him all the time, and Mosk wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.

By all the fire gods, he was so hard.

Eran shifted, opening the fastenings of his pants, fucking Mosk hard with his fingers to hopefully distract him from what was coming. From the sounds Mosk was making, it was working. He reached for the bottle of lubricant with his free hand, and spilled the oily, slick mixture onto his fingers and coated his cock, mouth opening, smoke falling out of his mouth on a hard exhale.

He looked up warily at the plants above and around him as he shifted position. He really didn’t want to burn Mosk’s greenhouse and there were better places to fuck him. With Mosk’s magic, anything made from something that had once come from a plant could be made into a weapon, Eran would have to be on his guard until Mosk accepted what was happening.

He stretched his fingers as much as he could, though Mosk’s entrance resisted him. He was tight, even with the finger fucking. Eran liked it. Liked the bewildered way Mosk seemed shocked at his own pleasure, the way his voice broke when he couldn’t hold back a noise. A sheltered little dryad.

Eran was going to burn him alive.

He withdrew his fingers carefully, staring down at Mosk’s hole, how open it was now compared to how it had been before. It started to close and Eran reached down and traced his index finger around it, watching it spasm, and rubbing gently at the sensitive skin with the pad of his thumb.

‘How long was I supposed to wait?’ Eran said. He grasped the base of his cock, and nudged the head of it against that hole, shoving Mosk down when he stiffened. He didn’t even wait for Mosk to struggle, stretching him open and groaning at the feel of that tight muscle against the head of his cock. ‘Years? Decades? Was I supposed to let you get used to the idea of it? Even the others know you like me.’

Mosk groaned in despair, his arms shifting in the coat again.

‘It’s enough,’ Mosk breathed. ‘That’s _enough_.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Eran said. ‘You haven’t even come yet. I’m not leaving this half-done.’

He pushed deeper, biting his lip when Mosk squirmed and shifted like he could get away from the penetration.

‘_Eran,’ _Mosk snapped.

‘Yes?’ Eran said, pushing deeper still. Mosk swore beneath him, back arching and even covered by all the clothing and his arms caught behind his back, the angle was beautiful.

‘Eran, _stop.’ _

‘No.’

Eran looked up, and none of the trees or plants were attacking him. Mosk quivered underneath him, and he felt blissfully good around Eran’s cock. He kept his eyes open, though they wanted to close, and he gripped Mosk’s hips with both of his hands, sure he was bruising him, wanting those marks.

He lifted Mosk’s hips and continued to roll forwards, and Mosk moaned a high sound, open-mouthed, gasping each breath. Eran was tempted to get all the way into him, but he didn’t risk it. That could wait until later.

‘Shhh,’ Eran said, his hands softening on Mosk’s hips and rubbing the goose pimpled skin. ‘You feel so good, Professor.’

‘Gods,’ Mosk bit out. ‘Stop saying that.’

‘What?’ Eran said. ‘You are my teacher, aren’t you? I’m going to turn up to class tomorrow, and you’ll teach me, won’t you? I think you’ll be sore though. It’s tempting to tell you that I hope you won’t be too distracted after today, but that would be a lie. It would be nice if this was a bit distracting, wouldn’t it? Would you like to still feel this, tomorrow?’

A broken sound in Mosk’s voice, and Eran couldn’t believe how vocal he was. Stiff, buttoned-up Professor Mosk was amazing, and Eran withdrew carefully and fucked back into him slowly, getting Mosk used to the feeling of it. As tempting as it was to be rough, to fuck all the way into him, he already knew Mosk would be overwhelmed enough.

He slipped his hand beneath Mosk’s hip, hiking his waist up so that Mosk was propped a little more on his knees, and reached for his cock to stroke it to hardness. He blinked when he realised it was already about half-hard, and as he possessively wrapped his fingers around it, he couldn’t stop the grin on his face. It was probably a good thing Mosk couldn’t see him.

‘Wow,’ Eran said. ‘You like this more than I thought you would.’

‘Shut up,’ Mosk breathed. ‘I don’t like this, I don’t like _you. _I never even wanted you in my class. You don’t belong there.’

‘Actually, if you think laterally, you’ll find that the principles of growth apply really well to fire magic. You just don’t like fire enough to think about it.’

He felt Mosk’s cock all over. It was uncut, and the foreskin was thin and sensitive and Mosk whined as Eran massaged his thumb into it until the head of his cock emerged fully. The base of it was thicker, and it felt nicely formed. Eran wanted to see it, put his mouth on it, but all those things would have to wait.

He knew Augus and Ash would probably mock him for just fucking him on the greenhouse floor, but Eran was a simple boy, and he had time to do all the other things he wanted to do; if he played his cards right.

He exhaled a long breath at the feel of Mosk around him. He risked pushing deeper and deeper with every thrust, and Mosk made delicious, choked off noises beneath him and tried to yank his arms out of his coat and failed. By Kabiri, Eran _loved _that coat.

When he bottomed out, he held still, feeling Mosk against the length of him and liking the way the muscles inside gripped him, like he was where he belonged.

‘You feel…very good,’ Eran said. ‘Gods, you really do. Are you okay?’

‘Shut up,’ Mosk said, voice strained. ‘Just shut up, please.’

‘Are you though?’ Eran said, slowly but firmly working his hand on Mosk’s hard cock. ‘I mean it feels like you are, but you had an invisible timeline for how this was supposed to pan out that I didn’t know about, because I’m not a mind reader.’

‘You’re never passing another assignment with me. Not _ever.’ _

‘Okay,’ Eran said. ‘I can fuck you again though, right?’

‘_No!’ _Mosk said, though there was a sulkiness in his voice that Eran hadn’t ever heard before, and he _liked _it. Was there a bit of petulance to his Professor?

‘I can’t?’ Eran said, with faux sadness. ‘Can I suck you off then? Would you like that?’

Mosk’s hips bucked down into Eran’s hand where he was jacking him off. Oh, he _liked _the idea of that.

‘I’d like to taste you,’ Eran said.

‘Stop talking. I don’t like it.’

‘Really? You don’t like the idea of my mouth on your cock? I could make it _so _warm, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You know that feeling when you ease into too-hot water? Maybe you don’t. Would you like to?’

He fucked into Mosk harder, because he could tell by the shifts in Mosk’s breathing that he liked it. He was finding it difficult, but he liked it. Eran was going to tie him up for a weekend and make him come so many times he forgot his own name.

‘It’s okay to enjoy it,’ Eran said. ‘You’re meant to.’

Mosk whimpered, and Eran grit his teeth and bucked down hard into him, starting a wave of deep thrusts, an inch out and an inch back in, mouth dropping open with how good it felt. Mosk would feel this tomorrow, the next day, maybe even the day after that.

Eran would visit him and make sure he kept feeling it.

‘It’s okay to enjoy it, Professor Mosk,’ Eran said breathlessly, jacking him faster than before, watching Mosk’s head toss back and forth, his hands clenching into fists and opening, before clenching down again. ‘Are you going to come soon? I think you are.’

Another minute, and Mosk cried out loudly, coming so hard that his chest came off the floor, short, staccato sounds falling out of his throat. Eran squeezed his eyes shut, let go of his cock and gripped Mosk’s hips so hard he was hurting his own fingers.

He came only seconds later, pressed deep and feeling the heat of his own come flood out of him, warming everything inside.

Mosk made a strangled noise, then twisted violently. ‘_Ah!’ _he said, his voice shocked. ‘It _hurts.’ _

Eran held him still, unable to talk as he finished coming, his balls drawn up and his lower back taut, lost in the moment. He kept Mosk tight against him, breathing hard, moaning softly as he finished.

‘It’s…temporary,’ he breathed.

‘You burned me,’ Mosk said, sounding genuinely shaken.

Eran rubbed at his lower back, trying to soothe him. ‘It’s temporary, I promise.’

Mosk eventually began to relax under the circular strokes, and then went limp with a heavy sigh. He shifted in the coat and made a faint sound of discontent. Eran watched him, and didn’t pull out until he’d fully softened, slipping out of him – Mosk whining when it happened – and moving so he could watch his come ooze out. It didn’t happen straight away, but after about ten seconds a little stream of it began to trickle free. Eran drew it up with his finger and pushed it back inside, loving the little surprised sound that Mosk made in response.

‘So how long was I supposed to wait?’ Eran said.

‘I don’t know,’ Mosk said, like he was trying to sound aloof. He failed miserably. He just sounded sulky. ‘Longer.’

‘Right. But this way, I get to fuck you a lot more, Professor.’

‘Oh no, you can’t call me that. Stop calling me that!’

‘That’s what you are,’ Eran said, smiling. ‘I can’t stop calling you that, Professor Mosk.’

_‘Fuck,_’ Mosk managed, and Eran slid his finger free.

Eran carefully released Mosk’s arms from his own coat, turning Mosk to the side to unbutton it fully and then laying it gently to the side. Then he shifted, gathering Mosk up in his arms, making it clear that he didn’t want Mosk to get up and run away. He ended up leaning back against a trestle table covered in potted plants and a trowel, and he had Mosk’s back against his chest, both of his palms on Mosk’s ribs, stroking him.

‘Anyone can come in here,’ Mosk said primly. ‘Anyone.’

‘Oh, I don’t care about that. Is that a problem for you? I hope not. This is going to be a secret for about six days, I think. I mean, Augus and Ash already know. You know what they’re like.’

Mosk made a weak sound, his head tipping back against Eran’s shoulder. ‘You don’t respect me at all.’

‘I do,’ Eran said. ‘I just have different priorities to you. I don’t care about coming across like a super stuffy, repressed person like you do. Is it really so bad that anyone could come in? Will you show me your room next time? I bet that’s got great security.’

Mosk let out a long, slow breath. ‘You dare too much.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m sore,’ Mosk muttered. ‘And I’m hungry. You’re going to go and get me something to eat. Some sap. The _good _kind. I can’t believe you did this. I’m still sore. You’re really very rude! I thought ambaros were meant to be more polite than this.’

‘I’m afrit too,’ Eran said, a wave of affection cresting inside of him. Mosk _did _have a petulant side, and Eran loved the idea of fucking him until he began demanding the things that would make him feel better. Food, affection, whatever it might be. That sounded lovely. ‘What can I say? I’ll be very polite when I get you some sap.’

‘This is atrocious. Starting today, I’m giving you detention.’

‘Oh? Any fun ideas on how we’re going to spend detention together?’ Eran said.

_‘No,’ _Mosk said. ‘You can process the blood, bones and other offal I use to fertilise some of my plants. I don’t like that job anyway.’ Mosk held up his hand and looked at it, there was dirt under all of his fingernails. ‘I don’t like blood under my nails.’

‘All right,’ Eran said. ‘I can do that for you.’

‘What? Really?’

Eran smiled slowly. ‘It’s detention isn’t it? I can do that for you. Something tells me I’m going to be in detention _a lot.’ _

Mosk was silent for a long time, and then he sighed. He shifted, wincing a little, and looked at Eran, frowning up at him. He looked dubious, even calculating, like he was trying to decide if he would even allow something that Eran didn’t plan to give him much of a choice on.

Eventually he pursed his lips – which Eran thought was adorable – and he faced forwards again, sinking back into Eran.

‘I don’t like you,’ Mosk said.

‘I can work with that.’

Mosk made a sound of disapproval with his tongue, but fell silent, and eventually relaxed again in the cradle of Eran’s arms. His breathing slowed, and one of his hands dropped and traced fern-like petals across Eran’s thigh.

‘No, I really don’t like you at all.’

‘Okay,’ Eran said, smiling, kissing the top of his head. ‘Professor, maybe you can teach me how to treat you, so that you’ll like me better?’

Another of those small, cute grumbling noises, and Mosk huffed. He said nothing, and Eran grinned at the greenhouse, and thought that he couldn’t wait to tell Augus and Ash.


End file.
